(The angel Elzevar is unemployed. The only thing he knows how to do is deliver messages, but as there aren’t any messages to deliver anymore, he moves about rummaging through the trash of the huge municipal dump in search of spoiled food and fruit. After all, you’ve got to eat something. At night, down around the riverbank, he’s tried his hand as a prostitute of infinte-resource and, in fact, knows how to do quite a lot of things; furthermore, his condition as an angel releases him from any moral scruple whatsoever. However, most of the time the encounters end badly when the client, sooner or later, discovers that Elzevar is sexless: as it goes it seems that in certain trades having a sex is particularly sought-after, maybe even indispensible. So in order to pacify the deluded client Elzevar shows him how he can fly: first to the right, then to the left, and then he passes over his head and ruffles his hair like a gentle breeze. But the clients of the riverbank demand something more concrete than just a normal demonstration of levitation. One bit him on the ankle, a bald one with a wig called him a sodomite, and a third denounced him to the police on the basis of an article of the penal code that punishes solicitation for a third-party and two other articles of the air navigation code as regards urban flyovers without a license…)